


With Teeth

by Nanoochka



Series: Mating Games challenge fills [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Derek is awkward, First Time, Knotting, M/M, Painful Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanoochka/pseuds/Nanoochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek and Stiles have sex for the first time, and no amount of fanfiction in the world could have prepared him for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 2 of the Mating Games Challenge ("The Beast Within").

When it happens, Stiles’s whole body seizes up like he’s been electrocuted, if being electrocuted feels like getting split the fuck in half from the ass end up. The noise he makes is neither a moan nor a shout; it simply emerges from somewhere deep in his belly like a ghost that’d been trapped in there finally found its way up and out toward the light. It’s embarrassing, he should be embarrassed, but right now Stiles is too busy worrying about other stuff. Like how the fuck he’s going to survive the next hour.

Derek--Derek, bless him, looks like he’s either about to come, pass out, or call the whole thing off, looking down at Stiles’s face with so much concern it’d almost be touching if he weren’t currently responsible for making Stiles feel this way. Which is to say really, really fucking good, but also like he might die at any moment. He’s made jokes before about Derek having the peen of death based on his past track record, but he never really realized how accurate that might be until right this second.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps out, even with every fibre of his being screaming,  _Abort, abort_!

He clutches at Derek’s biceps so hard that his nails dig into the muscle. He can see Derek thinking about it, forehead sheened with sweat and creased in worry, his lip caught sweetly between his teeth. Obligingly, Derek pushes in a little farther, the hard swell of his knot slipping that much deeper inside Stiles’s body, only to freeze again when Stiles makes an involuntary, choked-off noise of pleasure-pain, eyes rolling back in his head. His prostate feels like there’s a fist pushing against it relentlessly.

“Don’t stop,” he wheezes again. This time he slides his hands up into Derek’s hair so he can grab hold, keep their faces close. When he speaks, the words emerge half against Derek’s lips and half against his cheek. “I want it, don’t stop.”

Stiles never thought he’d be the one having to talk Derek into giving him his knot, considering he was still a noob at all this and had never had anything bigger than a few fingers up his own ass prior to today. Hell, as of two hours ago, he’d only ever made it to second base with another person, and now here he was, on his back with his legs in the air, cradling the sweaty, heavy weight of Derek’s body while Derek attempts to knot him. He may as well be shoving a baseball bat up there, or that’s what it feels like. Certainly, it’s nothing he planned for; they just kissed for the first time a week ago. It was inevitable, maybe, they’d end up in bed eventually, because Stiles isn’t much one for restraint and Derek is hot like burning, but he really, really hadn’t banked on his first proper look at Derek’s dick also involving firsthand proof that werewolf junk comes equipped with a little extra sumthin’ sumthin’.

“This, um,” Derek had said, blushing a furious shade of red. “This seriously never happens.”

It’s no one’s fault but Stiles’s that he never met a challenge he could walk away from. With a shrug, he’d just wrapped a hand around the swollen flesh at the base of Derek’s cock and said, “Don’t hold out on me now, big guy.”

Famous last words.

He can only imagine what it must feel like to Derek, though; it feels amazing enough when Stiles fucks his Fleshjack, and that’s not remotely comparable to a real, live boy. The way Derek’s eyes had rolled back until the whites showed when Stiles so much as gave the knot a gentle squeeze with his fingers. He and Scott were so having a talk later about certain things he’d seen fit not to tell Stiles about before.

“Give it to me,” he pants when Derek buries his face in Stiles’s throat, gasping hotly. “You’re gonna make me come my face off, you don’t even know, don’t make me beg.”

“I’ve got to be hurting you,” Derek chokes out, pulling back to meet Stiles’s eyes. He looks  _destroyed_.

And yeah, he is, there’s no doubt Stiles will be walking funny for the next week, but he somehow manages to smirk and cants his hips up invitingly. _More_. He glides his lips along the shell of Derek’s ear. There’s no mistaking how hard, how needily, Derek shudders against him.

“Do your worst,” he whispers.

And Derek? Derek does.


End file.
